


Mother's Day

by angelontheoutskirts



Series: Queen Erica [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Cooking, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Mother's Day, Mourning, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelontheoutskirts/pseuds/angelontheoutskirts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bunch of fluff and cuteness that came to me in the middle of writer's block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

Erica woke to the sound of her children’s hushed giggles. When she opened her eyes she saw 4 bodies attempting to carry a large tray piled with food through the doorway. It was no easy task to keep it level as her youngest; Cailan was only 4 and thus about half the size of his elder brother and a good head shorter than either of his twin sisters. Still he diligently held up his corner until the tray reached the safety of the nightstand.  
“Good morning!” They greeted her in unison. “Happy Mother’s Day!” Erica smiled.  
“Well good morning my loves.” She replied, sitting up. She then lifted Cailan on to her lap as her older children scampered on to the bed around her.  
“We made breakfast!” Cailan cheered. She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek.  
“All of you? By yourselves?”  
“Well…Da helped.” Duncan, her eldest, informed.  
“Ah…where is your father now?” She asked.  
“His majesty had to inform and apologize to our long suffering cook about the state of her once immaculate kitchen.” Alistair answered from the doorway. “And once they’re done here there’s going to be 4 new royal pot scrubbers.” There was a quartet of groans from the children. “She did promise a sweet roll each for a job well done.” Complaints forgotten the four youngest Theirins each gave their mother a kiss on the cheek and headed towards the kitchens. Erica laughed and shook her head fondly.  
“Is there anything our children won’t do for extra desert?”  
“If there is, I haven’t found it yet.” Alistair told her as he crossed the room, leaning down to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch.  
“So how much of a mess did they make before you got down there?”  
“The kitchen looked like it’d been hit by the largest blizzard this side of the Frostbacks. We’ll have to restock our flour supply soon.” He grabbed a biscuit from the tray they’d brought and took a bite, wincing. “Oww….it seems our children have inherited our culinary brilliance.” He put down the rock hard baked good. Erica reached out to inspect his jaw, then lightly kissed it.  
“It’s the thought that counts…now let’s go find Anders so he can heal that.”  
“Yes please.”

“Grand Enchanter? They’re here.” Fiona looked up from the book she was reading and pushed her chair away from her desk. She straightened her robes and headed towards the front gate. Once she reached the courtyard she caught sight of the royal carriage and suddenly she was surrounded by the Theirin children, bobbing around her like hungry baby chicks.  
“Grand-mère! Grand-mère!” They cheered. Behind the bouncing youngsters she could make out the King and Queen exiting from the carriage.  
“Andaran atish’an your majesties.” She greeted, giving a slight nod of her head.  
“Children please, decorum…” Erica chided softly, shaking her head. “Hello Fiona, my apologises…you know how they are…” The elf smiled at the queen before turning her gaze to Alistair.  
“Yes your majesty, I believe I do.” The monarch frowned in confusion.  
“Are you talking about me again?” Alistair asked.  
“Nothing awful, just a mother to mother kind of thing Ali.” Erica told him softly.  
“Shall we head inside?” Fiona asked and slowly the royal family entered the college.

The small cabin they stayed in when not in Orlais was spotless when she woke. All her potion ingredients had been refilled. A rich stew was simmering over the fire and she could smell bread when she opened the window and it wafted in from the outdoor oven. On the table sat a small box with a bouquet of black roses next to it. She opened the box slowly and smiled when she saw the golden comb within it. It was engraved with the same carving of the mirror that Warden Erica had given her years before. The same carving on the mirror that Flemeth had destroyed. It was beautiful and she clutched it to her chest with a smile. She looked up when the door opened and Kieran entered carrying an armful of wood.  
“Mother?” he asked as he bent to put the logs in their pile near the fireplace. When he stood again she wrapped her arms around him.  
“Thank you.” She whispered. He smiled and returned her hug.

The tree stood proudly on an outcrop looking out over the waking sea as it had for the last fourteen years. Variel kneeled before it, with a bouquet of wildflowers in her arms.  
“Happy Mother’s day.” She whispered, laying the flowers at the tree’s roots. “Ar lath ma Madre.”  
Zevran watched his daughter as she kneeled before the tree that marked her mother’s grave. Each year from the time Variel could comprehend speech they’d come here. He would stand watch while his daughter told her mother about their year. And each year there was more to talk about, more adventures, for his little girl was growing into an extremely capable young woman. She’d also inherited her mother’s beauty but he supposed he was biased in that regard. A warm breeze passed by and he gave a small smile.  
“What do you think of our girl Lyna?” He asked the wind. Suddenly a stray blossom brushed against his cheek. “Te amo cariño and I miss you.”  
“She misses you too Padre.” Variel told him as she came to join him, one of the pale pink blossoms tucked behind her pointed ear. “She says that every year.”  
“Every year it’s more true.” He wrapped an arm around her when she stood beside him. “Come on niña, it’s time to let your mother rest.”  
“Yes Padre.”


End file.
